


Nightstar Beyond

by KevlarMasquerade (nightsstarr)



Category: Batman Beyond
Genre: F/M, comic lore, switching POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightsstarr/pseuds/KevlarMasquerade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Terry finds out that Bruce's previously-estranged granddaughter is going to move into the Manor to make the commute to Gotham University easier, he didn't think much would change.</p><p>He was wrong. He was very, very wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pickup

**Author's Note:**

> This is just going to be a no-stress, fun fic that I update between working on other fics. I don't have the plot hammered out so we'll see where it goes.
> 
> This fic is set after and will work in continuity with the original TV series, and I'll try to work in some elements from Batman Beyond 2.0 but I won't be accommodating the comic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry takes Bruce to Blüdhaven to retrieve his granddaughter. She seems odd, but he's probably over thinking it. He can't be as suspicious as Batman every second of the day.

The windshield wipers on Bruce’s car—one of the less conspicuous ones, but still a car that Terry wouldn’t be able to afford if he sold all of his internal organs—flicked back and forth against the rain that was pelting the glass.

Terry gripped the steering wheel tightly. The weather coupled with the worth of the car he was driving made him tense, but Bruce’s intense sulking made it much worse. Since they left the Manor, the old man hadn’t said more than two words to Terry.

"Turn left in one hundred and fifty feet," the automated voice of the GPS Terry threw on the passenger seat next to him instructed.

"So," Terry said awkwardly as he changed lanes. "Are you excited?"

"Hm," Bruce answered darkly.

"Aw, come on. You gotta have something to say. This is a big day for you."

"Shut up and drive the car, McGinnis," Bruce growled, and Terry tapped his fingers against the steering wheel but he complied.

Terry didn’t live at the Manor. He didn’t want to and he couldn’t have moved, anyway, without having to change schools. Living in the suburbs seemed so boring, anyway. As a result, Bruce lived alone. It kind of got to Terry, sometimes, when he thought about it. Terry was over there almost every night, and at least since Bruce shoved his way back into the business world he wasn’t sitting alone in the Manor everyday. But still. He lived all by himself in that huge place.

That was about to change, though. He had a granddaughter who was starting school at Gotham University, and instead of living in a dorm on campus or commuting from Blüdhaven, she asked Bruce if she could stay at the Manor with him.

Personally, Terry thought it was a horrible idea. The Manor had fallen into a general state of disrepair, even the parts that were lived in, like the kitchen and Bruce’s office. The granddaughter—Mary or Marie or something—would have to first fix up one of the guest rooms, and then she’d have to live in the dusty old Manor with only Bruce for company. There was also the issue of the night job Terry held, but Bruce assured him that none of that would be a problem.

At first, Terry was really annoyed by the idea, especially since it meant that he’d have to sacrifice a whole day so he could drive out to Blüdhaven and get her. But he realized—this was Bruce’s granddaughter. Bruce had only ever had two sons, Tim Drake and Dick Grayson. While meeting Tim Drake had turned out to be less than fun, meeting Dick Grayson had a whole different kind of allure. This was the first Robin. Nightwing. The commish’s ex-boyfriend, if he’d heard right, so the guy had to be tough as nails.

Terry had done a little snooping on his own and he discovered that after Dick Grayson retired the jumpsuit, he went on to lead a pretty normal life. He had a wife and daughter and he worked as a cop, the perfect kind of job for am ex-vigilante.

He pulled off the Blüdhaven Skyway into the city, where narrow streets made him even more nervous about driving and the buildings around them had grates with locks over the doors and windows. The GPS directed him further into the city, which Terry was kind of grateful for because he definitely couldn’t imagine a guy like Dick Grayson living in a bad neighborhood like that.

They lived outside the heart of the city but not quite in the suburbs, in a narrow three-story house whose front stairs led to the second story. The lawn was small and bordered with a chain-link fence. Terry pulled up in front of the house, hoping to make it easier to put stuff in the car.

"This is it?" Terry mumbled to himself, lifting the GPS off the seat next to him and peering at it. He expected… well… Bruce was loaded. Dick was a cop who made a decent amount of money and his wife worked, too, although Terry couldn’t remember exactly what she did. This house was pretty small. It was so ordinary.

"Is there a problem, McGinnis?" Bruce asked as he opened the door.

Terry jumped out of the car to help him, since the rain was still coming down really hard. Even though Bruce wasn’t exactly fragile, Terry suspected that all those years as Batman hadn’t left him in the best of health.

The front door opened, the storm door banging open against the side of the house. “Grandpa!”

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Terry had never seen anyone so excited to see Bruce before. The girl—whose name he still couldn’t quite remember—was the same age as Terry, which he knew not because Bruce had volunteered any information about her but because they were both starting college in two weeks.

She was mostly a blur of dark hair and laughter as she bounded down the steps and over to them, completely ignoring Terry and the rain to throw her arms around Bruce.

"Easy," Bruce muttered into her hair, but he let her hug him and he even put his hand on top of her head. "Go put a jacket on," he said after a few moments passed. "You’ll get a cold."

She burst out laughing at that, but she released Bruce and swiped her bangs away from her face.

"I’m Mary," she said, whirling around and holding her hand out to Terry amicably. "You must be Terry McGinnis, right?"

"Um, yeah," Terry said, and now that she was standing in front of him with her eyes fixed on him, he started to notice a few things. Mostly that she was really, weirdly pretty. Terry was pretty much in love with Dana, but that didn’t make him blind. Her dark hair curled over her shoulder and continued down to her lower back, and her green eyes were so bright they almost didn’t look real. Her skin tone also held the sun, as though she’d just gotten back from some exotic cruise or something. Blüdhaven was pretty well-known for its beaches, so that wasn’t too surprising, but he couldn’t help but think that he’d never seen a girl like her before, or any person at all like her before, and it made it somehow hard to look away.

Blinking away his thoughts, he shook her hand, which was warm in his. “Nice to meet you.”

Bruce had fixed Terry with a disapproving look, but he was distracted when she turned back to him.

"Come on, grandpa. Get out of the rain. Mom and dad would love to say hi."

"I don’t think that’s necessary," Bruce told her, glancing at the car. "Just get your things and we’ll go."

"Or," she said, her tone challenging but the genuine smile still on her face, and she took Bruce’s hand. "We can go inside and you can say hi to mom and dad."

"Mary—" Bruce protested, but she didn’t listen to him. She held out her hand to Terry, motioning for the umbrella he was holding over Bruce, which he gave to her as she started gently pulling him to her front door.

Terry found himself thinking that maybe Mary living at the Manor was a pretty good idea, at least as far as Bruce was concerned. Maybe she’d be good for him.

"I don’t need help up the stairs," Bruce snapped at her as they approached them.

She didn’t seem fazed by his temper, and she looked at Terry over her shoulder and called, “You too!”

The inside of the house was quaint, and not over-decorated. It looked like any living room on a sit-com or something.

"Greetings, Bruce!" a very tall, very redheaded woman chirped. She was dressed like a housewife from a television show, complete with an apron and flats. "It certainly has been a while." She approached him and bent to kiss each of his cheeks once, which, along with her strange speech pattern, gave Terry the idea that she was foreign.

She looked like Mary, with a deep skin tone and bright green eyes, with the same kind of hair that seemed to spill over her back like tendrils of silk.

Terry was so taken aback by her that it took him a few seconds to notice Dick, who was standing uncomfortably behind his wife.

His hair had begun to turn grey at the sides, but other than that he looked the way Terry had imagined he would, based off of pictures in his file from when he was Robin.

Unlike with Mary, Bruce didn’t appear to be very tolerant of Mrs. Grayson, frowning at the double-kiss gesture. She didn’t seem to notice, however, and Mary left them and brought her father over to Terry.

"Daddy, this Terry. You remember Grandpa telling us about Terry, right?"

Terry furrowed his brow. How much did Bruce tell them? From what Terry understood, Dick didn’t want any part in vigilantism at all. Even if he wanted to ignore it, he had to know that Terry was more than just Bruce’s assistant. But, even if Dick knew, did Mary know? If Dick really didn’t want anything to do with vigilantism, Terry could see how he may not have mentioned anything about it to his daughter.

"Yes, you’re Bruce’s work assistant, aren’t you? A gopher, or something?" Dick held his hand out for Terry to shake, which he did nervously.

"Yes, sir. Since Mr. Wayne picked up his managerial position at Wayne-Powers, it’s been a little more involved than a gopher job, though," Terry answered. There, that should be enough code to get across what he meant.

"Why don’t you spare Mary the details," Dick said tightly.

"Daddy," she said, scolding.

"You don’t live at the Manor, do you, Terry?" Dick asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

A reasonable question, considering his daughter would be living there. “Oh, no, sir. I live in the city with my mom and younger brother. My girlfriend’s house is closer to me than the Manor," he added, hoping that mentioning Dana in passing would ease Dick's worries about his daughter.

"Good," Dick said, and he clapped Terry on the back. "Mary, how about you and Terry start bringing your bags out to Bruce’s car?"

She frowned at him. “Are you gonna say hi to Grandpa?”

"Mary," he sighed, and he ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

"Please, Daddy? Just talk to him for five minutes."

Terry grabbed his phone out of his pocket, feeling awkward, and scrolled through days-old texts from Dana. They argued quietly before Mary sighed and motioned for Terry to follow her.

"My room’s back here," she explained, leading him down a small hallway and flicking on a light. "Sorry about that. I just wish they would get along," she said when they were out of earshot of the rest of her family.

"It’s okay," Terry said. Mary’s room was painted pastel purple, and just about everything in her room was purple, pink, or white. It was the girliest room he’d ever been in, girlier by far than Dana’s. "I used to feel the same way about my parents when I was younger."

"Your parents divorced?" she asked as she gathered duffel bags in her hands, bunching the handles together.

It wasn’t her fault for asking. He shouldn’t have said anything if he wasn’t prepared to answer her. “They were, but actually, my dad died three years ago.”

"Oh." She dropped the bags she gathered and turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest, and her face had turned red at the faux pas. "Dammit, I’m sorry. I—both my parents’ parents are—I shouldn’t have said anything."

"It’s okay," he assured her, taking two of the bags she put down. "They were divorced before that. So I get where you’re coming from."

Mary slung a bag over her shoulder and took one in either hand. “I think that’s everything.” She glanced around her room one more time, studying everything. Even though there were five duffel bags packed full of stuff, Terry couldn’t help thinking that this wasn’t that much to bring when you were moving out of your house, especially for a girl. It was lucky Dana was living at home instead of at school. Terry cringed to imagine how much she would be carting back and forth.

When they returned to the living room, the three adults were standing awkwardly, not talking.

"Daddy, did you tell Grandpa about your promotion?" Mary asked sweetly, making her father glare at her.

"No, I hadn’t mentioned it," Dick sighed.

Bruce nodded, and as Mary pushed Terry to the door, he heard Bruce say, “I’d… like to hear about it.”

The trunk was fairly small, and some of Mary’s bags would have to go in the back seat.

"Thanks for helping me," she said, looking back at the house but not showing any intention of getting out of the pouring rain. "I’ve never had that many friends," she continued, which struck Terry as odd. If she’d gone to his high school, she wouldn’t have had any trouble at all making friends. But then, maybe that was part of the problem. "So maybe we can, you know, consider each other friends?"

Terry shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I don’t see why not.”

She smiled at him before glancing down at the puddle she was standing in, stirring the water with the toe of her shoe and making ripples dance over the surface. “It’s exciting, isn’t it? Starting school? It’s like hitting restart.”

Maybe for her. Terry couldn’t really restart. He was going to have the same dumb responsibilities, as far as the cowl went, and he was going to have the same friends, since Dana and Max were both going to GU, and he was going to have the same problems as always.

Instead of saying any of that, he said, “Yeah, you’re right,” and smiled back weakly.

"I guess we should head inside. My dad’s been talking to my grandpa for almost five whole minutes so I’m sure they’re both at the end of their fuses." She shook her wet hair out of her eyes and she snapped the trunk closed.

Her parents fussed over her the way parents should, assuring her that they’d visit when it was appropriate. It made Terry ache for a normal life like her, with two parents who loved him and a new start to look forward to and no Batman responsibilities.

Bruce sat in the front next to Terry, not that he offered any conversation, and Mary put in a pair of earbuds almost as soon as Terry started driving. He was hoping the rain would let up as they drove out of Blüdhaven, but if anything it only got worse.

He almost screwed up and went to pull the car into the cave, but he remembered at the last second about Mary and pulled into the garage.

"Do you need help carrying everything in?" Terry asked, more to be polite than because he was eager to help.

Pulling the two bags they’d piled in the back seat with her, she said, “Um, no, I got it, I think.”

"Don’t you think all that’s too heavy for one person, Mary?" Bruce asked, leaning on his cane.

"I… Oh! I guess so. Yeah, I could use a hand, actually." She nodded at the trunk, indicating the rest of her bags.

Terry squinted at her, but she was looking at Bruce hopefully. He shrugged and retrieved her bags from the trunk.

Apparently she knew her way around the Manor well enough to know where the guest rooms were. She picked one that looked out on the withered gardens and expansive backyard, which was mostly covered with weeds and uncut grass. Terry tossed the duffel bags on the bed, wrinkling his nose as dust puffed up from the duvet.

"Yeah," she agreed, following his line of vision. "This place needs a makeover. I have my own sheets, and maybe I’ll even paint the walls if Gramps says it’s okay."

"Are you gonna need help?" He tried to keep the impatience out of his voice, but he’d done a lot of driving and the last thing he wanted to do was play around in the dusty Manor. Besides, he wanted to go over Dana’s. She wasn’t very thrilled that he’d be going to pick up a mysterious girl their age, despite his assurances that nothing would happen.

"Nah. A woman’s touch is what this place needs." As she spoke, she swiped her finger along the dresser, revealing a dark streak among the gray dust. She blew on it, scattering the dust particles which sparkled in the light.

"I can’t say I’m jealous," he muttered, edging toward the door.

"I know you probably have things to do, but… My grandpa, he’s pretty cranky, isn’t he?" She said it with an affectionate tone, but Terry could tell that she was nervous. Of course she was nervous. It would be just the two of them in this sprawling, dusty manor.

"Yeah. But he seems to like you," he pointed out.

She smiled and looked out the window dreamily. “I always liked seeing him, even if he and my dad never got along. He’s the only grandparent I have.” She fixed her gaze on him. “He likes you, I can tell. What do you guys usually talk about?”

"Oh, you know…" he stammered. It wasn’t like he could say masked vigilantism. "My family. I thinks he feels like he can relate, because my dad died a few years back. Don’t worry too much about it, though. I’m sure the two of you have plenty to talk about."

"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll see you around, Terry, okay?"

"Yep. I’ll be seeing you."

For her sake, he really did hope they could find something to talk about.


	2. Orientation

"So... It's kind of a big day for me," Mar'i said excitedly around a spoonful of cereal.

Her grandfather glanced up over his newspaper. "School starting already?"

Tracing her finger over the tabletop, which she'd painstakingly buffed with orange-scented wood cleaner, she answered, "No, silly. That's next week. Orientation's today!"

"Oh," Bruce answered, and lowered his eyes to the print on the newspaper.

Mar'i bit her lip and lowered her gaze to her reflection in the pristine, orange-scented table. "I'll meet a bunch of people, make some new friends."

This captured Bruce's attention, and he folded his newspaper lengthwise and placed it on the table. "How many 'friends' are you planning on making?"

"I don't know, Grandpa. It's not something I can predict." She laughed easily, but she knew why he was really asking. 

"Don't get too 'friendly' with these people," Bruce grunted. "McGinnis doesn't even know your real identity. You've gotta be careful."

"I don't see why we shouldn't tell Terry," she sighed. "It would make it way easier if he knew."

"Your identity remains a secret. McGinnis has enough to worry about. I don't need him worrying about you, too."

That kind of stung. It was like he preferred Terry over her. "I guess you're right. So, anyway, do I get to see the Batcave this time?"

"Your father doesn't want you near it," Bruce reminded her as he reached for his newspaper. 

"Well, I know, but--"

"No, Mary." The finality in his voice made her return her attention to ger cereal. Clanging the spoon against the bowl, she asked, "What color tablecloth do you think I should get? I was thinking maybe white with a blue pattern, and the curtains--"

"Whatever you prefer."

"Okay. I'll just--get ready to go, then." Her grandfather's gaze didn't waver from the lines of newsprint. "Orientation starts at eleven, but I guess I could be a little early. It's been a little since Dad and I toured it."

"How are you getting there?" 

"I was gonna, you know, use public transportation--take the bus into the city and take the train to--"

"No flying," Bruce said firmly. "This isn't Blüdhaven. Someone will see."

"I wasn't going to--!"

"You drive, right?"

"I'm not taking one of your cars, Grandpa." The thought of getting into an Italian convertible only to reduce it to scrap metal because of the Gotham traffic and her own anxious driving made her refuse the idea.

"I'm not lending you a car." He stood and Mar'i rushed to retrieve his cane from where he left it at the edge of the table. "You drive motorcycles?"

"Um, yeah. Daddy taught me."

Bruce took his cane motioned for her to follow him.

There were still several parts of the Manor that were dusty and unclean, but Mar'i had gotten to most of the high traffic areas--the dining room where they were eating, the kitchen, her room, the main hallways--but she hadn't been to the garage yet, and the hallways Bruce led her through grew increasingly dusty and depressing.

The garage was huge, and it was lined with luxury cars from different time periods, older cars that Mar'i dared to imagine belonged to Bruce's parents and newer ones in that boys from her high school drooled over. 

"Holy automobiles," she muttered, at a loss for words.

"The bikes are in the back," Bruce said after pausing at the door which led from the garage to the manor. Mar'i stepped onto the hard floor, oil and gasoline and metal tingling at her nose.

Bruce owned a lot of motorcycles, too. Not as many bikes as cars, but still a ridiculous amount. Foreign brand names were emblazoned on the bodies in various places among bright paint and intricate detailing. 

"I--" she stammered, overwhelmed. "Which one's the least expensive?"

"They're luxury bikes. They're all expensive."

"Grandpa, please?"

"Take this one," he instructed, pointing at one with his cane. "It used to belong to Barbara. I've had it refurbished it a few times but it shouldn't be too over the top."

"Barbara?" Mar'i asked as she ran her hand over the body of the bike. "She's the Commissioner, right?" 

"And Batgirl."

"I know that much." Mar'i carefully straddled the body of the bike, hovering over the seat. "This is a really nice bike. I don't want to crash it."

"I wish McGinnis had that attitude," Bruce scoffed. "You know that the cost doesn't matter."

She stared up at him. He mentioned Terry. Again. This was the most they'd spoken since she came here a week ago and he couldn't stop talking about Terry. Mar'i didn't realize how much he filled the role of a son for Bruce, and what was weird was that Bruce didn't seem to, either.

"Okay, I'll take the bike." The words came out forceful, but not angry. She wasn't angry, really, it was just a bit odd to spend time with her grandfather and have to play second-string to some guy she hardly even knew.

"Good. Take Barbara's old helmet, too. And if you're going to be driving a motorcycle around, you're going to need a jacket."

"I don't think a jacket's actually mandatory," she protested as she swing her leg around the bike to pick out a helmet that fit her from the collection hanging from pegs on the wall.

"No, but it helps blend in. Most people wear leather jackets to provide some cushioning in he event of an accident. Even though it might not apply to you, you still need to go through the motions."

"Yeah, I get it." She shoved a helmet onto her head at random, snapping it around her chin.

"Maybe a new helmet, too." Bruce placed his hand on her head and jerked the helmet forward, thoroughly messing up her hair underneath. "I link my account to your card so you can go shopping after school."

"That's okay, Grandpa. I have my own money." 

"Mary," he sighed, and she slumped as she sensed a lecture coming on. "I know I'm not very great company. Let me do that for you."

"Oh." That wasn't what she was expecting to hear at all. "Okay, then."

"Besides, your birthday's only a month away."

She grinned at him. Usually, all she heard from him on her birthdays was a card with credits folded inside it, maybe a video call, if she was lucky.

"You know, Grandpa," she said as she straddled the bike, "You can call me Mar'i while we're at home."

His frown became slightly more severe. "Of course, Mary."

...

Dana held up the thick sheet of paper she dug up from her purse, squinting at it. She wasn't looking forward to carrying around a map of the campus for the next few weeks. It would label her as a freshman immediately. 

Taking a minute to double-check her eyeliner and reapply some lip gloss, she tried to test her memory of the map--

It was no good. She was awful with directions. At least once she met up with Max she would have someone else to rely on.

Gotham University's campus was closed, but it was still tricky to pick out the GU buildings from the unfamiliar offices and apartments nearby. 

Max lived in Miller Hall, which according to the map, was supposed to be behind her. After a quick glance at herself in the mirror, she snapped it closed and yanked her keys out of the ignition, smoothing her dress as she stepped out of the car.

Hoping to give herself a more collegiate look, she she paired her familiar blue dress with a short-sleeved black shrug. The clack of her ankle boots on the pavement reassured her somewhat as she approached the unfamiliar building. 

The lobby of the building featured cushy chairs set up around a dingy table, presumably for short-term use. Seated in one of the chairs was a freckled kid with ginger hair, gangly and tall in a way that Dana could tell even while sitting. It looked like he was waiting for someone, given the way he was looking intently down the hall and that he was even sitting in the lobby at all.

"Hi," Dana said, pulling on a friendly smile. "This is Miller Hall, right?"

His gaze flicked to Dana, and after a moment of surprise at finding someone suddenly in front of him, he smiled at her. "Yep. You looking for someone?"

"Yeah, my friend lives in this dorm. On the third floor."

"Oh, I'm fourth. I probably don't know her, sorry."

"No biggie. I'll just text her. Is it okay if I chill down here while I wait?" she asked while fishing around in her purse for her phone.

The redhead gestured to the seat across from him, glancing back down the hallway but being friendly enough.

Max texted her that she'd be in the lobby in a minute and Dana threw her phone in her purse. 

"So, do you hate orientation today, too?" Dana asked, tapping her painted nails against her knees. She felt kind if awkward asking, but she felt even more awkward sitting in silence.

"Yeah, I do, actually. I was supposed to come two weeks ago, but some of my paperwork fell through and I got bumped to today."

Gotham University had been having orientation sessions all summer. This was the last day before classes started, and it was reserved for people who had messed up with their paperwork in some way or another. Lots of times it was people who forgot to fill in something, but sometimes it was because of a financial hold or because of an issue with grades.

For example, Max was forced to wait until the last day because the school noticed her unusual streak in near-perfect grades and wanted to check with the high school to make sure she'd never been caught cheating.

"I have orientation today, too. I was a little late handing in my paperwork." She gave him a friendly grimace and he smiled at her.

"It happens."

"Hey, Dane!"

Both teenagers turned at the sound of Max's voice. She must have been a sight for the poor guy--loud pink hair and a voice to match.

Dana waved and stood. "Are you waiting for somebody? Are they gonna get here soon?"

"I--" He stuck his hand into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his phone, sliding the screen up to reveal the keyboard. "I was, but I think she cancelled on me."

"You wanna come with us? It's okay, right, Max?"

Max looked up at the boy as he stood, towering over both of them. He was probably taller than Terry. "Sure! What's the name, Stretch?"

"It's Colin."

"That's Dana and I'm Maxine. And we're gonna be late if we don't move it."

"You know where we're going?" Dana asked as they exited the building, shouldering her purse.

"Yeah. The auditorium in Campus Center."

"And that is?"

"In the center of campus, doofus," Max scoffed. 

Dana frowned at her, displeased. 

"It's that building," Colin told her kindly, gesturing between two buildings.

"That's not so bad," Dana muttered.

"We got ten minutes," Max announced, glancing at her watch. "We're never gonna find seats in there."

Dana's shoes clacked madly over the pavement as they rushed to the appropriate building, dodging crowds and whispering to each other as they darted through hallways, searching for the correct room.

They located it, a room with a miniature row of stairs leading down to heavy double-doors, one of which had been propped open.

It was as Max said-- while the auditorium wasn't completely full, since people filled in leaving at least one space between people they didn't know, it was hard to find three consecutive seats that were empty.

Dana, being more sociable than Max, at least when it came to complete strangers, approached a dark haired girl who was sitting at the edge of a mostly-empty row. 

"Excuse me," she said, adopting an apologetic look. "Can we skooch in past you?"

She turned bright green eyes to the group. "Oh, sure, let me slide down for you."

Leaving three seats open put her next to a guy in a beanie with a scraggly beard, but she didn't seem to mind too much.

"Thanks," Dana said as they settled in the seats. Then, because it really was nice of her to move and they still had a few minutes before the start, she added, "That's a schway necklace."

The girl raised her hand to the hollow of her throat to clutch at the elongated diamond shaped pendant at her throat. "Thanks. I love your shoes," she returned.

Dana beamed at her. "Thanks, I got them half off at the cute little shoe store on Eighth and Sixth, you know the one with the sign out front that says--"

"I don't know it, sorry. I just moved from Blüdhaven."

"Oh, right." She'd still have to get used to the face that not everybody was from here. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Mary."

"I'm Dana."

"Any more people you wanna add to our ragtag group?" Max joked, elbowing Dana in the arm.

"I'm just being nice," she hissed.

They were interrupted after that by a blonde woman in a bun and kitten heels who welcomed them and began what was mostly a four hour long but informative lecture about classes, the general campus, and some student life segments. There was a longer lecture for students who were living on campus, which Max decided to ditch. Colin seemed to want to stay, so he quickly exchanged phone numbers with Max and Dana in the hopes of meeting up again, and he took the opportunity to introduce himself to Mary before the three of them left.

"Man, that was stupid," Max complained as they waited for the crowd to filter through the doors. "It was all common sense stuff."

"You'd be surprised," Mary muttered, rolling her eyes. "Some people are idiots."

"Speaking of idiots," Dana said, reaching in her purse for her phone. "I told my boyfriend me and Max would meet him to grab some food after." Sliding her thumb over the screen on her phone, she glanced at Mary. "Are you interested?"

"That's really sweet of you, but I don't want to interrupt the plans you already made," the green-eyed girl said politely, folding her hands behind her back.

"Girl, you'd be doing me a favor. I've been the third wheel with them for years. Some company would be nice."

"Okay, then. I guess I'll go." She smiled sheepishly at Dana and Max, and her smile was met by furious typing from Dana and quiet cheer from Max.

"What'd you think of that guy, Colin? Pretty cute, huh?" Max nudged Dana playfully.

"I guess." Dana shrugged. "He's too tall for me. Besides, I'm--"

"--taken," Max finished, "we get it. Doesn't mean you can't look. What do you think, Mary?"

"Oh, I don't know. I only talked to him for, like, two seconds. He was kind of adorable, but not really my type."

"I think he has a girlfriend. He was waiting for somebody when I first said hello, and he said 'she' canceled. I mean it could've been his sister or something."

"Hm. He lives in my hall, I'll have to find out."

"There's Terry!" Dana exclaimed, pointing at a car that entered the busy lot in front of them.

"Who?" Mary echoed, squinting at the car Dana was pointing at.

"My boyfriend. What kind of food do you like? There's a diner nearby that has pretty good burgers--"

"Wait. Terry McGinnis?"

Dana froze, confused. "Yeah, you know him?"

"Actually, yeah."

Before Dana could ask any more questions or Mary could offer any further explanation, Terry's car pulled up in front of them.

"Hey, Dane," he said as he rolled down the window, and Mary stopped to see inside. "Max." his gaze fell on Mary and he gaped at her in surprise. "Wait..."

"I know, right?" she chirped. "I can't believe you're Dana's boyfriend!"

"How do you both know each other?" Dana demanded, trying to push down the jealousy and suspicion that was clawing at her.

"Terry works for my grandpa," Mary explained, looking at Dana curiously. "I--that's not a problem, is it?"

"I didn't even know Wayne had a granddaughter," Max grumbled. She pulled open the back door of his car and slid in. "Are the two of you coming or are we gonna stand here all day?"

Dana and Mary scrambled into the car, and Terry explained what happened the previous week in the car. 

"That's right," Dana said as they pushed open the door to a familiar diner. "You texted me about it." Looking at Mary, she said, "How weird that we met after that!

"I know. It's kind of cool," Mary said, smiling. "Like fate or something."

"If you believe in that mind of thing," Max muttered.

"Anyway, I definitely believe that I'm fated to have curly fries and a chocolate milkshake," Terry announced, leafing through his menu. "What do you guys think?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was maybe a little cheesy, but it did what I wanted it to so I'm happy with it. I'm basing Gotham U off of the college that I went to for a year and what tiny bits of it we saw in Batgirl v3. (I named Miller Hall after Bryan Q Miller, the writer for Steph's run on Batgirl. I plan to make any building names ode to my favorite writers and illustrators.)


	3. Tortilla Chips and Hummus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mar'i explores the Manor and Gotham; Terry places a phone call from the Batmobile; Bruce doubles his dose of painkillers.

Mar'i blew her bangs away from her face. Her ongoing mission to clean the Batcave had taken her from the bedroom she'd claimed as her own to the dining room to the kitchen. She'd never cleaned grout before, since the floors in her kitchen were linoleum, but she thought she'd done a pretty good job of it so far.

Currently, she was taking stock of what food was in the cabinets-mostly canned vegetables and years-old packages of pasta and Rice-a-Roni and similar products. Bruce seemed to eat mostly sandwiches, even for dinner, and cereal in the morning. Not very healthy or varied. As a result, the many spacious cabinets had been neglected.

She'd already thrown out an entire bag of moldy potatoes, and she'd almost snapped her finger off on a mouse trap in one of the empty cabinets. Accessing the higher shelves with flight seemed like a waste of energy, as there wasn't much left to do but swipe at some decaes-old dust with an old fashioned feather duster.

The front door opened and closed, startling Mar'i into flightlessness. She fell to the floor in a heap, pulling her skirt down to a more modest length when Terry appeared in the archway to the kitchen.

"Mary? What are you doing?"

"Dusting, " she bit out angrily, brandishing the feather duster at him.

"On the floor?" Terry asked, smirking. "I think you're supposed to use a broom for that."

"Shut up. I fell."

"From where?" He was looking around the room with a raised eyebrow, and Mar'i realized that he was looking for a chair or a stepstool.

"Um, I was standing on the counter," she muttered, hoisting herself into a standing position as she pointed at the open cabinet above their heads. "These vaulted ceilings make it hard to clean everything."

"I suggest a chair or something. The granite's slippery," Terry said and strode over to the fridge, rummaging inside it and producing a rolled up sliced of bologna. "So where's Bruce?"

This was a formality. They both knew that Bruce spent all of his time in the Batcave, either working on a case or tinkering with something or other. Only, Terry didn't know Mar'i knew that.

"His office," Mar'i answered, rolling her eyes. "Same as always. I haven't even seen him around here today."

"I figured. He called me, so I'd better go find out what he wants." Terry bit the end of his slice of bologna and nodded at her, intending to make his exit.

"Wait, Terry-" Mar'i called, suddenly feeling somewhat nervous.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"So, um, what kind of food do you like to eat?"

Swallowing what was in his mouth, he said, "Uh, that's kind of a vague question."

"While I was cleaning I was thinking that it's, you know, really bare around here. There's no snacks or real food, except white bread and cold cuts." She nodded at the bologna in his hand as an example. "I was thinking I might do some shopping."

"I don't know if you wanna do that. The old man gets kind of crotchety when people mess around with his routine."

"Yeah, I know. Since just being here seems to be messing with him, anyway, I figure I might as well get some food. Any requests?" She allowed her voice to take on a hopeful tone at the end. He'd probably guess that doing some grocery shopping might make her feel more at home. There was no need to say it.

"Ah, well, now that you mention it, I really like that cereal with the little marshmallows."

"Lucky Charms? Kids' cereal?"

"Hey, say what you want about me and my immature palette, but don't knock Lucky Charms."

She laughed a bit at that, and he seemed pleased with himself.

"Look, I gotta go. Like I said, the old man's waiting on me." He took another bite of bologna. As an afterthought, he added, "Get whatever you like. I'll eat almost everything. Bruce likes tortilla chips and hummus, as a heads up."

"Oh." Mar'i blinked thoughtfully at that. She had no idea. "Thanks, I didn't know that."

Terry turned, waving, and disappeared into the hallway, which was oddly dark for the time of day as Mar'i had not yet gotten around to changing the blown-out lightbulbs or cleaning the dirt-caked windows yet.

She counted, slowly, to five in her head and lifted slightly into the air, enough so that her feet were no longer on the ground but that if someone surprised her like that, she could flex her feet and stand on her tiptoes to make it look like she had been walking.

Waiting for Bruce to disclose the location of the Batcave got tedious a week ago. She'd been bringing it up, but each time he'd blatantly tell her that he promised her parents not to get her involved. She'd pointed out that she was eighteen, she was about to start college, she wasn't living in her parents' house, she should be in charge of her own decisions, and she'd even tried tears. Bruce was as unflappable as ever. For a minute she pitied her father, having grown up under Bruce's strictly watchful eye, but her father was the one restricting her in the first place. Besides, her father got to be Robin for as long as he wanted.

The Batcave was obviously based in the Manor somewhere, it was obvious by the way Terry kept showing up all the time. Mar'i had been cleaning, and Mar'i had been "cleaning"-in fact, she originally found the old fashioned feather duster with the intent to carry it in her hand as she explored the Manor, so that she could pretend to dust the walls if Bruce happened to find her while she explored the huge property. Not that he ever seemed to go anywhere except the Batcave and his bedroom, sneaking to the kitchen and the den occasionally for food and books to read, respectively.

It turned out that the Batcave was very well hidden, unfortunately for Mar'i, so she devised the plan to follow Terry. She'd been hesitant to do it, since she didn't want to get Terry in trouble and she also didn't want him to be angry that she'd followed him. But she was tired of not knowing.

Rather anticlimactically, Terry only went into the den, which was down the hall and a few doors away from the kitchen. She hadn't gotten there in time to see how he did it, but the broken grandfather clock, which she thought was bolted down or some such, moved to the side with little more than a touch from his hand. In the newly empty space, a passage opened up which revealed stone stairs against a dimly lit background, which Terry descended. He was swallowed up by the wall as it closed, returning the clock to its original immovable position.

Landing and treading lightly on the carpet, she tried to move the clock as he'd done, but it was stuck fast. She resisted the urge to kick it, as she certainly didn't want to break it and as she knew Bruce prized that clock more than almost anything in the Manor. Now she knew why.

She'd figure out how that clock worked. First she had to go shopping.

...

"McGinnis," Bruce greeted Terry without turning from the monitors. Ace slept in the shadow thrown by the harsh light from the screens.

"Bruce," Terry replied. "I hear you've been working all day."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bruce growled, glancing at Terry out of the corner of his eye.

"Mary was just telling me that she hadn't seen you all day," he said casually as he ducked into the small changing room with the Batsuit, keeping the door open so they could continue their conversation.

"That's probably because she didn't wander out of bed until noon."

"If you've been up here all day how do you know that?"

"Cameras," Bruce grunted, and as Terry came up behind him he toggled one of the screens to reveal the kitchen, den, living room, the garden, and various other parts of the house.

"Dude," Terry said in a tone that clearly disapproved. "Not schway. Your granddaughter's living there."

"There's no cameras in the bedrooms," Bruce snapped irritably.

"Anyway, what've you been working on down here?"

"Jokerz purse snatchings."

Terry scoffed, annoyed. "Are you serious? You've been down here all day for Jokerz? Have you even eaten?"

"McGinnis. Here's the data I've collected so far."

Squinting into the white screen light, Terry leaned forward to see. On each of the monitors, rows and rows of purses, ranging in color from deep burgundy to scarlet, displayed themselves for Terry to see. "They're all red?"

Bruce nodded. "Similar size and shape, too. All found in this area, near Old Gotham." Bruce tapped on the keyboard and the rows of purses minimized to make room for a map with highlighted pinpricks indicating recent purse-snatchings by Jokerz. They're looking for something."

Terry leaned closer, interested now, placing a gloved hand on the back of Bruce's chair to steady himself. "You're right, old man. What are they looking for that can fit in a purse? A weapon? You think it's money?"

"It probably isn't money. Even the Jokerz would know that a woman wouldn't keep a large amount of money in her purse for long."

"Stake out Old Gotham tonight?" Terry asked, leaning back in preparation to leave.

"Do your usual route. The snatchings shouldn't start until after eleven, which puts you in Old Gotham at the right time if you keep on schedule."

"Yeah, yeah. On schedule. Got it." The door to the Batmobile lifted with a touch, and Terry jumped inside.

Despite Bruce's warning to stay on schedule, the first thing Terry did once he ascended enough to fly comfortably without paying too much attention was make a call.

"Terry!" Dana's voice greeted him through the speakers in the Batmobile. "Aren't you working?"

"I am," he affirmed. "I just wanted to check... You're not going to Old Gotham any time soon, right?"

"Pfft. No. My dad saw all these things on the news about how girls keep getting mugged by Jokerz and he won't even let me go downtown by myself."

"Maybe that's for the better, Dana. It really is bad."

"I guess I should be glad that you and my dad agree about something," she sighed.

"There you go, look on the bright side."

"Dork," she laughed into the phone.

"But I'm your dork."

"I still don't know how you managed that."

"Me neither," he replied. "I gotta go, Dane. I'm driving. I'll text you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay, Terry. Bye."

"McGinnis," Bruce's voice growled into Terry's earpiece. "Cut communication with me before you do that."

"Hey, no one made you listen in. You could've cut communication on your end," Terry pointed out, annoyed.

"If I cut communication, how am I supposed to know when you're done... doing whatever it is that you do."

"Fine, I'll cut out next time."

...

Mar'i blew her bangs out of her face, satisfied with the work she'd done. Now that Terry was occupied, she'd been able to utilize her flight without worrying about getting caught. Not that she was pleased with her grandfather's insistence that she hide her abilities from the current Batman, but she didn't want Terry to find out while she was doing chores, regardless.

She'd cleaned the cobwebs out of the disused higher cabinets, replaced several lightbulbs, and scrubbed a weird stain that she'd need her grandfather to explain to her some day off the ceiling. Grocery shopping at this time of night wasn't really an option, but she'd started a list and hummus was at the top. She'd also added some healthy snack food so that Terry didn't have to roll up bologna slices when he came in hungry. Mar'i didn't have any brothers, but she knew from some of her friends that teenage boys were supposed to eat a ton.

When she finished the list, she sat back and bit her lip. Maybe she could find a 24 hour 7-11 or something downtown that would have hummus and tortilla chips. Besides, she'd been by herself all day, so she kind of wanted to get out of the house for just a little while.

Writing a note to her grandfather seemed to be the only way to let him know that she was going, since she couldn't very well move the clock and shout down that she was leaving.

The air was muggy and her hair curled into frizzy ringlets. Hopping a bus and then a series of subways landed her in the middle of downtown Gotham in a half hour for less than twenty-five bucks.

She ducked into a small convenience store and made her small purchase, a brown bag hanging off her wrist. It was stupid to go all the way into Gotham just to buy a jar of hummus and a bag of tortilla chips from the old man who ran the tiny store, so she decided to take a walk.

Her dad had taken her there once, when she was too little to realize that the jewel in her headband cast a hologram over her skin. The movie theater where Bruce's parents were shot.

Thomas and Martha Wayne's graves were actually on the Manor's grounds. She hadn't visited them yet, since she'd been busy with orientation and cleaning the house and preparing for classes. Going to the abandoned movie theater felt closer to them anyway, and she wanted to see the place where it all started.

The theater was boarded up, but the boards were loose and this was probably a popular place for kids to break into for fun. For Mar'i, prying a board away from the door frame was easy, and the only trouble she had was avoiding stray nails as she walked over the debris strewn over the floors. She could have lifted into the air, but it felt more respectful to walk.

The foyer was wide, a moth-bitten rug that must have been beautiful once stretching from wall to wall. The domed ceiling over the entrance was painted with a fresco in an over-the-top display of luxury, although now paint was chipping off and the oil appeared to be separating from the faded colors. Sunlight drifted through several holes in the ceiling, spotlighting drywall dust and pieces of peeling wallpaper that hung off the wall like wilted flowers.

A banister hung over the carpeted stairs, and when Mar'i put her hand on it, she found that the screws holding it to the wall were loose. She picked a stage at random, and found that the chairs were leaking stuffing and that several arm rests had fallen off and littered the ground.

Backstage, she found a number of props and old wigs, costumes and shoes that went with them. She picked up a lengthy dress and imagined what sort of actress wore this, what she looked like, what her life was like.

She jumped when she heard a loud bang from somewhere nearby, clutching the dress to her chest as though it were a shield.

"What're you doing in Old Gotham at a time like this, girlie?"

Mar'i had heard of them, but she'd never seen them before. Jokerz. She could tell from the clown makeup and the brightly colored suits and the fact that they were eac holding some kind of impromptu weapon.

The apparent leader was wearing a purple and green suit, with full face makeup and a green wig. He held a crowbar in one hand, caressing the end of it with the other. "Do me a favor, sweetheart," he said, extending his crowbar toward her. "You put that pretty red pocket book of yours right here, and we'll let you go. Vinny'll even walk you out."

Mar'i took a deep breath and slid one of the blonde wigs into her purse. Moving as little as possible, she reached behind her neck to unclasp the pendant at her neck, and she slipped that into her skirt pocket.

"My purse? You want my purse?" she asked in a small voice, keeping her head down. "And then I can go?"

"Anything you want, sweetheart. Oh, we'll need your phone, too. We can't have you calling the cops on us."

"Okay. And then you let me go." Her voice broke, and it wasn't completely fake. Her heart was racing and she was shaking a little. Slowly, she took deliberate steps until she was only a few feet away from the gang leader. The other four members were standing behind him, snickering and leering at her. Any one of them could take a step forward and grab her, she was close.

Extending her arm with her purse around her wrist, she balled her fingers into a fist. She raised her head and allowed her eyes to shine bright green, and from her balled fist she released a burning starbolt.

The group scattered, and the leader was running toward her with the crowbar. She shot another starbolt out of her eyes, knocking him over, but one of the other Jokerz grabbed her from behind. He twisted her arm and there was a lot of shouting, but the intense pain shooting up her arm prevented her from being able to hear or see or think clearly.

The first Joker grabbed her by the shoulders while the second continued to twist her arm.

She couldn't tell where it was coming from, but a hissing sound filled the room and black smoke swallowed up each of the jokers, closing in on her as well. THe distraction offered her the chance to break free and, coughing, she lifed into the air and broke through the ceiing into the next floor of the theater.

Black smoke was still moving over the room below her, like a living shadow, and after catching her breath she decided that she needed to get out. There could be a fire or a gang war and she wasn't equipped to deal with that.

She ripped the boards away from one of the windows and shot two starbolts, first cracking the glass then shattering it. The blonde wig she'd taken from backstage was sitting in her purse, and she grabbed it and slid it over her head. Making her escape, she could see a figure descending from what must have been the Batmobile, pointy-eared and rocket-footed as he burst into the theater. She was glad she'd thought of the wig, but it wouldn't fool her granfather. She broke the no flying rule and jetted back to Bristol as quickly as she could go.

It wasn't until she landed on the outskirts of the property (to avoid the cameras Bruce had scattered around) that she realized she'd left the humus at the theater.

...

"Five Jokerz, Bruce," Terry muttered into his earpiece. "They got away through this damn smoke."

"Smoke?"

"Yeah, I don't know where it came from. You think there's a fire? It doesn't smell like fire smoke."

"Switch to infrared," Bruce commanded, typing grimly.

Terry obeyed, tapping his mask at his temple to toggle lenses. "Woah. Bruce, you gotta see this."

Bruce narrowed his eyes as the image loaded, and he clenched his jaw when he saw what was there. A unique heat signature, much hotter than usual but not fire-hot, was stamped all over the room. It was cooling even as Terry scanned it, so Bruce couldn't be exactly sure, but there was something awfully familiar about that heat signature.

"Scan the ceiling."

"You think it's a meta? It's been a while since a new meta's shown its face around here."

Bruce didn't answer as he waited for the images to load.

There was a hole in the ceiling, just large enough for a person to fit through, which was crawling with a sky-high heat signature. Terry made his way up to the ceiling and crawled through the hole, which let out to a booth large enough for a small party of people for private viewings. At the back was a window with a thick velvet curtain over it, which had been pushed back. The window had been smashed, letting out to the the Gotham air.

"Ow. This window's really hot. It's gotta be a meta, right? But what were they doing here, of all places?"

"You're talkative," Terry commented as he lowered down to stage-level. "I figured you'd be pretty pissed that the Jokerz escaped."

Bruce wasn't exactly happy, but he was too busy tending to his own thoughts to worry about something minor like that.

"Hey. Hummus. I'm starving."

Bruce rolled his eyes as Terry stooped to pick up a jar of hummus that had rolled over the ground. "Do what you want. I'll be right back."

"Huh? Where are you-?"

Bruce lifted his headset away from his ears, leaving it on the keyboard. Ace lifted his head as Bruce grabbed his cane.

In the kitchen, Bruce spotted Mary hovering to reach the top of the cabinets, a bottle of glass cleaner in her hand.

"Hey, grandpa! Look, this place look so much better now that it has working lights, huh?"

"Don't do that in the house," he said sternly, gesturing to her approximate location in the air, and she obediently landed on the ground. He studied her closely, but she was the picture of innocence, looking up at him curiously.

"What's the matter, grandpa?"

"What's this?" he asked, tugging at the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "You're cold?"

"No," she said defensively, gently pulling her arm back. "It just goes with my outfit. I've been wearing it all day. Which you would know if you ever came up here," she added bitterly.

"I've been busy," he told her unapologetically. "I'll... try to come up here more tomorrow, okay?"

She beamed at him. "Sure! I'm going grocery shopping in the morning, so you can help me cook!"

"I don't really-"

"Grandpa, no offense, but I've been cleaning all day and I think I'm gonna go to bed. I know you'll probably be up for like a lot more hours, but I need my beauty sleep."

"All right," Bruce muttered. He put a hand on her hair and pressed his lips briefly against her forehead. "Good night."

"G'night, grandpa!"

Bruce descended the stairs once more, making a mental note to take some painkillers for his knees, and he picked up his headset and put it on again. "McGinnis."

"Hey, glad you're back. I have a visual of our meta, grabbed it off one of the cameras on the street. Sending it now."

Bruce looked at the image as it loaded and he doubled the dose of painkillers.


	4. Nightstar, Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dana goes on a date with Terry; Mar'i takes up sewing; Bruce has a one-sided conversation; Max updates her system; Terry walks in on an argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Gotham isn't New York, but I used the layout of Canal Street and Little Italy the way it's found in New York City. I have a few maps of Gotham City for reference when I write, but I'm still not exactly sure where Little Italy is in Gotham. I'm assuming that Helena Bertinelli's apartment is in Little Italy, in which case everything would still work out assuming that Canal Street where I've placed it is at the bottom of Little Italy, and Old Gotham is south and east of that.

"Terry!" Dana chirped into the phone, shrugging one shoulder to pin the phone against her ear as she nudged the scrambled eggs in the pan.

"Dana?" he croaked, his voice groggy. "Jeez, what time is it?"

"It's eleven thirty! Get out of bed, already!" she commanded with a giggle.

"Hey, there's only a few days before classes, if I wanna sleep in, I will."

"No you won't. We're going out to dinner with my parents. You have a suit to buy." Dana cut the gas to the burner she was using and grabbed a plate out of the cabinet overhead. The eggs were still sizzling when she tipped them onto the plate.

Dana had been bugging him about getting a new suit for weeks. He wore one to a Wayne benefit or something a few months back and he somehow ended the night getting it stained with mud and torn. He said he played a quick game of football with some of the younger interns that showed up. In a suit, of all things.

She chuckled at that for a minute before sitting at the bar in her kitchen. Seriously, this dinner was a big deal. Her dad never really liked Terry. He never got over Terry's past, even though it was so long ago and even though Dana kept insisting that Terry was different now. Now that Dana was off to college, her dad didn't want her to waste time with on-again off-again boyfriends. This dinner was meant to prove to her dad that they were both mature now, and taking their relationship seriously while still making school a priority.

There was no point in getting nervous over this. It was just dinner. She'd been to dinner with Terry a hundred times before, and he'd met her parents. It was nothing new.

She just had this weird sense of foreboding.

...

Mar'i chewed the inside of her lip as she made quick stitches. She was in a rush-her grandfather would be up any minute now, and once he came to talk to her she was done for.

There's no way her trick with the wig would fool him. He must have seen her already, and if he didn't, he would as soon as he checked the monitors. She jumped as her phone vibrated on her desk, pricking her thumb with the needle.

Swearing in Tamaranean, she touched her thumb to her mouth, sucking at the prick of blood. The unlock screen on her phone featured a text message from Terry.

Forgetting about the minor pain in her thumb, she swiped the screen and scanned the message. He was asking for help picking out a suit, of all things.

Terry hadn't been unfriendly, but he hadn't really texted her or even hung out with her for more than a few minutes when he was on his way to the Batcave. She couldn't imagine what his problem was now, and she couldn't decide whether she was glad for the opportunity to get out of the house or stressed that he needed her so soon.

She told him she'd meet him in the city in half an hour, which should have been about right for public transportation schedules. Of course, she only needed about ten minutes to fly there without being seen.

She threw on a change of clothes and stuffed the purple fabric she'd been sewing into her purse. The windows in her room were large enough to easily fit through. Bruce would be angry when he came in here to find the windows wide open, but she might as well go anyway since there was no way he wouldn't be angry already. As a last thought, she locked the door, then she leaped into the air and flew toward Old Gotham.

...

Bruce lifted the white cap off the orange prescription bottle. He hadn't screwed it on all the way when he closed it, so opening it was easy. Still, the action caused pain to shoot up his stiff fingers, and he rubbed them as he swallowed the pills dry.

He'd overslept. He needed to talk to Mary, get her to talk to her father. He hadn't told Dick, and of course he wouldn't. Their relationship was strained enough already, there was no need to add the fact that Bruce clearly couldn't control his own granddaughter.

He put some bread in the toaster and ate it dry when it came out. He wasn't exactly nervous, but he wasn't sure how he would approach the topic. He hadn't felt so mildly uncomfortable since Dick moved to Bludhaven and gave up the Nightwing mantle.

"Mary," Bruce called, knocking on her door. There was no answer, so he folded his hands on top of his cane and cleared his throat. "I need to talk to you about what you were doing last night."

There was no activity from the other side of the door, and as much as it annoyed Bruce, he kept in mind that, like her mother, she was prone to fits of emotion. He couldn't imagine how Dick dealt with it.

"My hands were tied, Mary. I couldn't bring you to the Batcave without going against your father's wishes, and I couldn't do that. I'm not really angry with you. I think I've pieced together what happened-it looks like you were forced to use your powers. Why don't you let me in and we'll talk about it?"

There was still no answer, and his annoyance crested. Bruce wasn't known for his patience.

"Mary, come on." He turned the doorknob to find that it was locked. Grumbling, Bruce turned to his office. The keys to each door in the house were located in the side drawer, which Bruce wrenched open and rifled through until he found the correct one.

"I'm coming in," he called to her door, and he slid the key into the lock.

Bruce found that the room was empty. This room had been untouched for years, and Bruce himself hadn't been in here since before he took on Terry as the new Batman. Mar'i had hung curtains on the window, which she'd pulled back to let in the sun. She'd taped a number of posters to the wall, several groups of young men with styled hair, possibly actors or a boy band. There were other wall ornaments, decorative words written in cursive, corkboards filled with pictures of teenagers and Mary's family.

Neither Dick nor Tim had made such huge adjustments to their rooms while they were living at the Manor. Mary had been here for almost two weeks, but the feeling only began to sink in as he entered her room then that she was living with him. And she would continue to live with him, possibly for the next four years. Longer if she decided to attend the graduate program at Gotham University.

Maybe he hadn't done a very good job of making her feel at home. Maybe all the cleaning she had been doing and the redecorating were attempts to make herself feel welcome. Maybe she thought that the only way to get Bruce to notice her was through vigilantism, and maybe that was why she was prying so much about the Batcave and why she insisted on flying in the city when he expressly told her not to.

Maybe she wasn't wrong.

Bruce sank onto the foot of Mary's bed, which she'd decorated with an outlandish purple and orange coverlet and an obscene amount of throw pillows.

For the World's Greatest Detective, he was awfully slow to realize his own shortcomings.

...

Terry stood on the corner of Canal Street just bordering Little Italy with his hands in his pockets. Mary was supposed to meet him here a few minutes ago.

He would have preferred to do this kind of thing with Max, but he felt bad about leaving Mary in the huge Manor virtually all alone. Besides, Max didn't like doing date stuff with him-getting Dana gifts, planning surprises, and he assumed purchasing. She complained that spending so much time on his love life was depriving her of one.

Mary seemed like she knew a lot about that stuff, anyway.

If only she would show up on time.

"Terry!"

He turned to the sound of his name. Mary was waving at him as she made her way to him, her sandals slapping the sidewalk loudly as she half-jogged to him. "Sorry I'm late! I was, um-"

"What's that?" Terry asked, taking one hand out of his pocket to gesture at her throat.

"Oh." Mary closed her fist around the bright green pendant that hung from a piece of ribbon around her neck. "The chain had a knot in it so..."

"Whatever. Looks good."

"So, what were you thinking, for a suit? Are you looking for one that'll last or a quick and cheap kind of deal?"

"I can't get both?" Terry asked hopefully.

Mary girmaced and shook her head. "No, sorry. You're gonna have to choose."

"The thing is, I need something for tonight."

She stared at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open. "Tonight? You want to get a suit from this place-" She gestured wildly at the small shop Terry had chosen at Bruce's recommendation. "-for tonight?"

"Uh," he answered, shoving his hand back in his pocket. "I-yes? I have this huge date with Dana and-"

Mary's fingers were warm through the sleeve of Terry's jacket as she pulled him into the store. "We're gonna have to name drop."

"To what?"

"I'll talk. You just do what I tell you to."

When they entered, an electronic tone sounded over the door.

"Hello!" a ginger-haired man said, appearing from around a display of button-down shirts. "Is there anything I can help you with today?"

"We're just-" Terry began, but Mary cut him off quickly.

"My very close friend here is in dire need of a good suit for an event with my grandfather's business."

"Of course, dear. Now, how about I get your measurements-"

"Yeah," Mary interrupted, "and we're looking for something that says 'Wayne Enterprises intern'. Grandpa wouldn't be happy with anything else."

Terry raised an eyebrow at her. She was laying it on really thick.

"Of course, Miss Wayne," the man said, smiling at her. Mary took his words with a gracious nod instead of correcting her last name.

Between Mary overseeing and the salesman ushering him into suit after, the whole ordeal passed much quicker than Terry was expecting. Of course, it still took longer than he would he would have liked.

Since they were in a rush, Terry was forced to stand on a miniature stage in front of mirrors which were rayed out in front of him for all-access visibility while a mousey woman with a mouthful of pins took in several inches of fabric on his jacket. Terry seemed to be between sizes, and while it would have been easier to let out the smaller size, there wasn't time for that.

"I think gray is a good color on you," Mary commented as she watched the woman work. "Brings out your eyes. Like grandpa. Black isn't really your color."

Terry laughed at that. He disagreed; black kind of really was his color.

They left the shop about an hour later, towing a paper bag with a nicer suit than Terry had planned on purchasing charged to Bruce's account.

"Thanks, Mary," Terry sighed, tired of standing still for so long. "For meeting me last second and helping with, um, everything."

She smiled graciously. "Of course! Show Dana a good time tonight, all right?"

"Do you want me to walk you to the subway?"

"Oh, no, that's okay. There's still a few things I want to pick up, you know, for the fridge."

He would have offered to help, but there were a few things he needed to do.

He wished Mary good bye, then lingered at the shop to check his phone. A few texts from Dana complaining about her dad, but he didn't need to answer those right away. She knew he was busy.

 _Find anything?_ Terry texted Max, walking to the west toward Gotham U.

 _Not much,_ she texted back. _Some. You wanna see?_

_Yeah. I'm on my way._

...

Max typed at the keyboard on her laptop, the screen and the backlit keyboard the only illumination in the room even though it was almost three in the afternoon. The blackout curtains her roommate had installed were pulled down, making the small room feel even more cramped.

It wasn't as though Max really minded. Her roommate was quiet, sitting around on her computer with enormous headphones over her ears. She stayed in a lot, except at night, when she went to work. Max had asked her about it a few times, but she was quiet about it.

Terry had sent her some weird readings yesterday. Heat signatures that spiraled into the air. It was a new meta, as far as she knew. Some girl who just popped up last night out of nowhere. Terry had sent her blurry images taken with his cowl, but the figure in them was a silhouette. Nothing to go by on those.

There was a knock on her door and Max snapped the laptop closed, extinguishing the scant light in the room. She stumbled around, trying to locate the end of her charger, and she yanked it from the wall. Her ID and key bounced on the lanyard at her chest.

"Sh," she hissed at Terry in greeting once she opened the door. He looked alarmed in response. "My roommate's sleeping," she whispered as an explanation. "Here, take this."

Terry accepted the computer as Max coiled the charger wire. "I thought we were gonna, um, exchange notes?"

"Cool it, McGinnis. We are. There are private study rooms in the library." She looked up at him and added, "Which you would know if you paid any attention during orientation."

"Okay, okay. Let's just make it quick, okay?" Terry realized as he said it that his words weren't exactly very nice, especially since he hadn't seen Max much since she moved into her dorm at Miller Hall on campus, so he added an apologetic smile.

"Oh, right, you have that date with Dana and her parents, right?" Max asked. She didn't seem too bothered by his rashness, or at least, not any more bothered than usual.

"Yeah. And I've hardly have any time to get ready. The old man promised me the night off, but I just wanna know that you have eyes on the city. It'll get him off my back, in any case." Terry paused and opened the door to the library as they approached it. Max led him directly to the back, into a room which required a swipe of her ID to open. The room was large, with long tables outfitted with outlets meant for various chargers. It was empty now, but during the school year it would be filled with anxious students. It was good for a temporary reprieve, but they'd need something more permanent during the year.

Terry stood, feeling too jittery with pre-date nerves to take a seat, as Max made herself comfortable and opened her laptop.

"So," he began awkwardly as the fan on the bottom of the computer began to whirr, "how's the whole roommate situation?"

"Oh, I don't know. She's really nice, a Communications major, she's quiet. But she's out all night and she sleeps until the afternoon every day. She works at night, or something. Maybe it's just because I've known you for so long, but I hope she doesn't bring something sketchy back to the room." Max typed in her password as she spoke, and the program she was using to read heat signatures. "She thinks I've been playing some PC game, by the way. So you don't have to worry about her snooping."

"Uh huh," Terry answered, making a mental note to see if he would be able to get Max somewhere secure to work. Just because Max wasn't concerned about her roommate didn't mean there wasn't an issue.

"Okay, so I've been hacking into the CCTVs around Old Gotham, like you said-which, by the way, is illegal, and even though I scrambled my IP address on top of layers and layers of security, I hate doing from my laptop-and I got a burst of heat at around noon. So she's definitely still active."

"She hasn't done anything yet, though?"

"Well, no. But it's the middle of the day. Bad guys aren't usually on the mid-day shift, Ter."

"Just keep an eye on it for me tonight, okay?"

Max frowned. Terry looked tired, but what else was new? Terry was always tired. "Sure. What about the old man? He's not off tonight, too, is he?"

"As if," Terry scoffed, and he slouched a little, some of the tension leaving his posture. It was weird, but Terry always seemed to relax when he was talking about Bruce Wayne. Not if they were fighting, obviously, or if he had a deadline to meet, or if he was concerned about the old man, but the way people sort of relax when they're talking about a sibling or family member. Bruce had done a lot more good for Terry than either of them realized. "The geezer would never take a day off. The only time I get any peace around here is when he has to go away on business, and that's like, the opposite of a night off. He hates that stuff way more than our usual shtick."

"I bet. He always looks so mad, I can't imagine him sitting through a big meeting, listening to other people talk."

"Nah, he's not always mad. That's just how his face goes. He's usually mildly disapproving, but I wouldn't say mad."

Max laughed. "Sounds fun either way."

"I gotta go, Max. Thanks for holding the fort for the night."

"Whatever, McGinnis. Just don't make an idiot of yourself in front of Dana's parents."

"Thanks for the advice," Terry mumbled, and he glanced at his watch as he ducked out of the study room. He had just half an hour to get ready.

...

"Look, daddy, there's Terry! Doesn't he look nice in his new suit?" Dana tightened her grip on her father's arm as they approached the front steps of the carefully chosen, big-date-oriented restaurant.

"Huh," her father grunted in reply. "What did you say happened to his old one? He ruined it, didn't he? "

"No, daddy, he outgrew it." She quickly released her father's arm and took quick steps toward Terry, her heels clacking on the sidewalk. "Hi!" she squealed as she threw her arms around his neck, and he stooped so she could kiss him on the cheek. "You made it on time and everything."

"Of course. I told you I would."

"I know, but Terry, you don't have the best on-time record. Nice suit," she added, tugging at the lapels of his jacket playfully.

"Thanks. I want to the little place in Little Italy Mr. Wayne recommended." He extended his hand as Dana's father approached them. "Mr. Tan."

"McGinnis," Dana's father greeted him with a firm handshake.

Their table was waiting for them, a round table draped with luxurious tablecloth, the perfect size for four people. Dana had wanted to go somewhere more low-key, somewhere she wouldn't have to worry about the amount her father expected Terry to pay for the tip.

Her father was very serious. He waited until they'd all ordered, but as soon as the waitress left he began grilling Terry about college.

"Gotham University has a very good Liberal Arts program," Mr. Tan commented.

"Ah, yes, sir. In fact, one of my close friends is-"

"You're not doing any of that arts stuff, are you, McGinnis?"

"Oh, no, sir. I'm planning to major in Management. School of Business."

"Terry's interested in staying with Wayne Enterprises, Daddy," Dana explained.

"Oh yeah. You're Wayne's personal assistant or something, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir." Terry fiddled with his napkin nervously and Dana slid her hand beneath the table cloth to touch his knee supportively. He lowered his hand to hers and she laced their fingers together, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze.

"What do you do exactly? You make his appointments?"

"No, sir. That's more of a secretary's job. I do, um, some filing. Sometimes I call for a car service for Mr. Wayne if he has an appointment while I'm at school-"

Dana saw her father's expression slipping into a stern, unimpressed frown, so she quickly added, "Terry helps take care of him, Daddy. Mr. Wayne is teaching Terry from his own life experience."

"Life experience. What good does that do anybody? What can you learn from somebody else's life experience, McGinnis? You can't quantify life experience. Can't put it on a resume."

"That's why he's studying management, Daddy."

Terry's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he shook off Dana's hand to subtly look at it with the table as his shield.

"Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Tan, I have to use the bathroom really quick."

"Daddy," Dana groaned. "You're making him uncomfortable. Let me go see if he's okay." Dana pushed in her chair. "I know you want to talk to him, but can you please try to be nice?"

In a vestibule that led to men's and women's bathrooms, typing on his phone.

"Hey," she said, "I thought you promised me no cell phone."

"I know I did, Dane. I thought it might be Bruce, but it was just Max. I'll tell her I'm busy and turn off my phone, okay?"

"Promise?" Dana asked hopefully. Terry turning off his phone was a huge deal, and she was reluctant to actually believe him.

"Promise." He held his phone out for her to see the screen as it powered down.

She reached up to his suit jacket and pulled him closer, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Thank you," she whispered against his mouth.

"Anything for you, Dana."

...

Mar'i floated in front of the mirror on the second floor balcony of the abandoned theater in Old Gotham. The floor in the center of the small private bathroom was missing, possibly fallen through because of a leak of some kind, so she held onto the rim of the sink as she studied herself.

She'd converted the purple dress she'd taken during her first visit into a long-sleeved leotard, which she'd paired with a white pair of boots she'd found and cut the heels off of and a Tamaranean headpiece. She didn't have a mask, but as long as she removed her pendant that shouldn't be much of a problem.

It had been so long since she'd taken the time to observe herself without the hologram disguise, and it had been even longer since she'd worn a traditional headpiece. The green glow of her eyes cast an eerie glow over her cheekbones, and the orange tone of her skin made her inky-dark hair stand out. The pink glow of her starbolt washed her features in a rosy light, but the look wasn't diminished in the least.

Night had fallen, and although it was dark inside the abandoned theater, the light from the city provided enough light to easily see by. She'd chosen this place not only because the chain for her pendant was still missing, but also because the Jokerz were still crawling around Old Gotham, according to reports on the news.

Her grandfather would be furious, and her father would be even angrier. They'd be angry at each other.

This had been coming for a while, though. Since she was little, Mar'i had wanted to hear about her dad's expeditions and about her mother's childhood. She'd wanted to go to Tamaran and she'd always wanted to fight criminals, and not with police work the way her dad insisted she could.

Patrolling was more difficult than she thought. She was forced to keep in the shadows, which had never been a strong suit of hers. Unstealthy wasn't quite the word-she didn't have to worry about disguising the sound of her footsteps, of course-but she'd never practiced the art of sneaking up on somebody or sticking to the shadows.

Not only was patrolling hard, but it was boring. Terry definitely had an advantage with the Batmobile. If only she could hover, Mar'i would have a bird's eye view of the whole neighborhood. That would blow her cover, though, which wouldn't even be a big deal except that she was hiding from Bruce as well as from bad guys.

After a few hours of alternating between cramped spying crannies in building tops, she had an opportunity.

The Jokerz, like almost everything famous or infamous about Gotham, had become something of a legend, so Mar'i had heard of them even when she lived in Bludhaven. It seemed almost ridiculous. A bunch of teenagers dressed as clowns and harlequins for a gang. Occasionally, they'd do something nasty enough to get on the news, and that always put her father in a horrible mood.

None of them had ever seen the Joker, and if they had, they wouldn't be dressing up like him, her father would tell her darkly. The Joker died around the time Nightwing quit as a vigilante. Mar'i didn't know much more than that. But the Jokerz were not only awful people who did awful things, but they were disrespecting everything her father and her grandfather had done. Mar'i felt a strangely personal twinge at her chest as anger welled there.

It was difficult to see in the semi-darkness, but the group of teenagers was definitely part of the Jokers. A short girl with blonde hair pulled into pigtails along with an obscene amount of garish makeup strode ahead of two guys, both big, one dressed in a suit and top hat with a whip at his belt and a thin false mustache perched on his upper lip and the other dressed in simple pants, a wife beater, a vest, and a fez, in the fashion of an organ grinder's monkey.

She caught them late. The guy with the fez was holding two girls by the wrists. His hands were so huge that his thumb and forefinger met in the grip around each girl's wrist bone, and their pulling a feeble swings at him didn't seem to do much. The blonde girl with pigtails was holding one of them by the chin, digging through her purse and dumping its contents on the floor. The last guy in the suit appeared to be playing lookout at the edge of the alley.

Heart pounding, Mar'i floated to the edge of the building adjacent to the alley.

"Like stealing from the Jokerz, do you?" the blonde girl demanded. She tugged at the purse and the strap broke, leaving one end dangling in the girl's hand and the other attached to the purse, whose contents had spilled onto the ground.

"I-I didn't take anything, I swear," the girl pleaded, her voice watery.

"Stop your crying."

Mar'i crept to the far edge of the building and floated down to the sidewalk, staying in the shadows. She'd only seen something like this on movies, but if she could grab the lookout without letting him make any noise, she'd only have to take on two. And one of them would be distracted by the girls, so she could probably take them on one at a time.

She shook out her wrists nervously and floated so that she was just behind the guy in the tophat. Moving lightning quick, she slapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him back by the shoulder.

Only, she'd missed his mouth smacked him over the nose. That move was way harder than it looked in the movies. This guy was quick, too, and he slipped out of his jacket, so when she pulled back she tripped over her own feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" he screamed at her, holding his nose as he wheeled on her.

"Crap," she squeaked, and she frantically dodged a wild punch. When she moved down to dodge, she moved into the kick the lookout delivered to her, and he clipped her in the shoulder.

"What's the matter, Whiplash?" a girls' voice called, and Mar'i knew that it was the blonde girl.

This was not a good idea.

The lookout grabbed her by the voluminous fabric of her uniform at her arms and pulled her so that their noses almost touched. "What are you doing dressed like one of those freaks?" he demanded.

She was scared. He could really hurt her if she didn't fight back. Blinking away her swirling emotions, she stammered, "Like you should talk!" and released double starbolts from her eyes, the crackling pink energy hitting him square in the chest and sending them both tumbling.

"Jesus, she's a meta!" the blonde girl shrieked, and Mar'i scrambled to her feet.

She let the pink glow return to her eyes and she straightened her headpiece. "I'm Nightstar," she announced, praying that her voice wouldn't wobble with fear, and she released a spray of starbolts from her palm as she shouted at the two girls to run.

...

Bruce gnashed his teeth as he glanced down at the monitor on the Batmobile dashboard. It would take a few more minutes more to reach her in Old Gotham.

He had been calling her all day, but she turned her phone off after ignoring a few calls. Now he knew why.

When he found her, he was going to kick those Jokerz' asses, then he was going to ship her back to Budhaven the way they used to in the old days when Bludhaven was a wharf town-he'd stick her in a wooden crate, poke some holes in the top, and throw it in the Gotham river so the current would carry it there.

Then he'd cut off McGinnis's phone, because he wasn't going to pay for it if he kept his phone off all day.

Then he'd take some aspirin and maybe do some meditation Talia taught him years and years ago. Or he could break out the old canvas punching bag and give that a go.

"Maxine," he growled into the speakers. "Have you gotten through to McGinnis yet?"

"N-no, sir," Terry's friend stammered. He was probably making her nervous with his shouting, and somehow that made him feel the tiniest bit better. "The last time I got an answer from him was an hour and a half ago, but after that he tur-"

"Turned his phone off," Bruce interrupted. "You kids are on the phone every second of every day, but the second I need some help, no one has it. Perfect."

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. I could try to go to the restaurant if it's that important," Max offered nervously.

"How far away are you?"

"Uh... Fifteen minutes by subway?"

"That's not enough time," Bruce snapped.

"Is there anything you want me to-?"

"No." Bruce cut the transmission.

The miniature screen on the dashboard showed that Mary had the situation slightly more under control now, not that that really counted. Whiplash was out cold, but Yo-Yo and Fez had ganged up on her. Maybe she could take one of them on her own, but it wouldn't be good if they didn't get there soon.

He brought the Batmobile down low and opened the hatch at the bottom. "Ace," he growled in a one-word command, and the dog tore out of the Batmobile snarling and barking.

Bruce hated using Ace in direct combat, but he couldn't let Mary do this by herself.

Ace jumped on Yo-Yo, leaving Mary to out-power Fez on her own. The punches she gave were sloppy, but when blood gushed from his nose, Fez backed off. Yo-Yo was bleeding from her arm where Ace bit down. Barbara would give him trouble for using undue force or harassment or whatever way she decided to defend street thugs, but he didn't care about that right now.

A siren wailed around the corner, and Ace jumped away from Yo-Yo. On the monitor, Bruce could see Mary falter as though she would choose to fly off, but she scooped up Ace and entered the Batmobile through the bottom hatch.

"You didn't need to come for me," she told him, and she looked much worse up close.

"Shut up and sit down," Bruce barked, and he jetted into the air before the police pulled to a stop at the entrance of the alley.

...

Terry yawned as he unlocked the door to the Manor. Even though he had the night off, he couldn't help but check up on everything. Besides, Max told him that the old man was in a bad mood, so maybe he was lonely or something.

When he stopped by the kitchen to say hi to Mary, something he'd adopted into his routine in the last week, he was surprised to find that she wasn't there. The cabinets were all bare, so she couldn't have finished cleaning it yet. Upon inspection of the fridge, that was still empty. Weird, since she told him she'd be buying groceries when they split up earlier.

He flipped the hands on the clock into the correct position and the clock moved obediently out of the way.

"I have been begging you since I came here to let me in and you kept shutting me out. What else was I supposed to do?"

Terry furrowed his brow. That was the sound of an argument. "Bruce?"

"Get out," Bruce answered him sternly. Terry took a few steps down the stairs to better see him. "I mean it, McGinnis. Get out now."

Bruce wasn't sitting at his usual chair in front of the monitors. He'd pulled up an exam table, and perched on the table was an orange-skinned, green-eyed, purple-clad, rather beat up version of-

"Mary?"


	5. After the Sun Sets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry finally realizes that Mary isn't quite what she seems; Mar'i runs away from her problems; the Jokerz are having a bit of a problem; Dana wakes up feeling refreshed.

Terry stood at the top of the stairs, frozen. His eyes were still adjusting to the dreary light of the cave but he knew. It wasn’t a total shock, honestly, except that she looked--well, not quite human. 

Of course, he should have figured that the first Robin’s daughter would be into crimefighting, and it had crossed his mind once or twice that she might even be aware of everything that was going on, but to find out that she was a meta was something else entirely.

“Now you show up,” Bruce barked at Terry. “Get over here.”

Feeling a child about to be scolded, Terry clenched his jaw and made his way down the stairs quickly. He should probably say something, halfheartedly apologize for turning his phone off maybe, but he honestly couldn’t think of anything that would be appropriate.

Bruce shoved a damp cottonball into Terry’s hand and a discolored plastic jar of clear fluid into the other and he limped over to the chair in front of the monitors, which was turned toward the table Mary was perched upon.

Terry and Mary made brief eye contact before he dabbed at her knee with the damp side of the cottonball. 

“This night was a disaster,” Bruce continued, real anger behind his words as he spoke. “For both of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Mary said, and Terry snuck a glance at her face. Her eyes were shut tight and she was gripping the table with both hands. He had a feeling her reaction wasn’t to the pain of the antiseptic on her open wound.

“Sorry isn’t good enough, Mary. Look at you. You’re a mess.”

It was true. Whatever happened must have been really bad. She had a bruise swelling on her jaw and her knee was scraped open. Dark purple bruises were forming on the leg Terry wasn’t working on, and that was just what he could see.

“How am I going to send you to school with a bruise on your face? Is that really how you want to start a new year?” Bruce continued, and Terry was feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

“It’s not a big deal,” she muttered, refusing to look up as hair curtained her face. “I’ll tell people I broke up with my boyfriend or something if they won’t believe I wasn’t hit.”

“And the next time this happens what’s your excuse going to be? And after that? This cannot continue.”

“Bruce,” Terry snapped, making a fist around the cotton ball. “Lay off a little.”

Mary’s eyes flew open wide, and it weirded Terry out for a moment how green they were, with no pupil or anything.

“Lay off?” Bruce demanded, incredulous. “Don’t you realize what happened? She could have died. Because you wouldn’t pick up your goddamned phone. I’m not happy with you either, McGinnis.”

“No, Bruce, do you know what? Maybe you’re being unreasonable. THink about it. I’ve been doing this completely on my own for three years. Don’t you think you need someone who can stick around when I need a night off? Back when you were Batman you had a whole Batfamily--”

“That just led to more people getting hurt. I will not bring my granddaughter into this life, do you both understand me?”

At this point, Mary jumped up, her odd looking uniform slipping off her shoulders. “You’re just like my father,” she said, her voice shaking but her expression steady. “You can’t make all my decisions for me and you can’t make me be someone I’m not. With the right training, I could be--”

“I’m not training you, Mary,” Bruce said, his icy blue eyes locked onto her solid green ones. “I won’t do it. I’m putting locks on all of the equipment so that you can’t access it.”

With a whooshing sound, flames burst into life at the tips of her hair, illuminating a single tear track on her cheek but other than that only making her seem much more intimidating. “I want to tell you that I hate you right now,” she said, her voice thick, presumably with tears, and her expression blank. “But I can’t. I don’t even know you. You’re just a stranger with a huge house and no right to make my decisions for me.”

Leaving behind a trail of heat, she pushed herself into the air and pressed the button next to the clock entrance to make it spring open and she was gone.

“Bruce…” Terry said after a moment. 

“Don’t worry about her,” Bruce sighed, and his voice sounded like it sometimes did at four in the morning after a night of nothing but gathering information. Exhausted. “Tamaraneans are prone to fits of extreme emotion. She’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Is that what she is? Tamaranean?” He was mildly interested in finding out exactly what Mary was, but he was mostly asking to take Bruce’s mind off the exchange he’d just had.

Bruce nodded once. Brandishing his arm out to indicate the space next to him, Bruce rotated his chair toward the computer. “Sit.”

…

Mar’i flew to her room as fast as she could, taking calming breaths to quench the flames in her hair. She hated crying in front of anyone who wasn’t her mother, but the tear that slipped out wasn’t even because she was sad--it was because she was so angry she couldn’t breathe.

Of all people, her grandfather telling her that she couldn’t do what she had honestly been born to do really upset her. Her father had made the conscious decision to turn away from that life, so of course it was impossible to convince him to let her join her grandfather. Being rejected by Bruce hurt. 

It wasn’t like she didn’t get it. She did. Bruce and her father were on shaky grounds already, and neither of them really wanted to upset the other. Besides that, she knew very well what had happened to her uncle Tim. Her dad used it as a cautionary tale on more than one occasion. What was more, there was Barbara, who was now so staunchly against vigilantism that her relationship with Bruce was forced at best. 

Her grandfather didn’t want any of that stuff to happen to her. 

But how many different ways did she have to explain that none of that stuff would happen to her? And that even if it somehow did happen to her, she would rather have a close call with some Joker serum than rot on this stupid blue planet with her powers ready to burst? Although she could count the amount of times she’d seen him other than birthdays on two hands, Mar’i loved her grandfather. And being rejected like that hurt. 

“I can’t stay in this house!” she exclaimed. Her powers were eating her up inside, unborn starbolts jittering under her fingertips, sunlight shimmering through her body in the dark. 

Violently she ripped open the drawers of her dresser and wrenched open the doors of her closet until she pieced together a going-out outfit, chunky heels and a tight skirt and a drapey top. She grabbed her pendant, still hanging on the ribbon, and flew into the night, tying it around her neck as she went. 

Dana told her about this place, an eighteen and up dance club club, which honestly wasn’t something she was usually into but which seemed perfect right now because she just needed to get out and go somewhere and surround herself with so many people that none of them mattered.

The club was packed when she got there and there wasn’t much of a line to get in, probably because most people were inside already. The bouncer outside was a kid her age, so she was thinking she could get in at discounted price if she--

“Wait,” she shouted over the music that was pouring out of the building, “I know you.”

The ginger kid went bright pink in the face, his blush swallowing up his freckles, and he said, “Oh. Um, hey.”

“You were at orientation. I can’t remember your name I’m sorry.”

“It’s Colin. I just started this job last week actually.”

She tilted her head at him. Colin was really tall, but most bouncers were big. Colin wasn’t big. Colin was kind of scrawny. Plus, he was super pale with ginger hair and his bouncer jacket looked like it was going to eat him for its next meal, it hung off his lean frame so visibly. “A bouncer?”

“I know,” he agreed, laughing nervously. “I know one of the deejays, so she hooked me up with this job. Paid for my books, at least. Um, I’d let you in for free but I’m not supposed to do that too often and it’s still my probationary period, so sorry, but…” he extended his hand. “Twenty dollars to get in.”

“Yeah, no problem. You don’t have to do that anyway.” Mar’i hesitated briefly before digging around in her bra to produce a folded twenty dollar bill. “Sorry, but boob money is all I have.”

“I see it more than you’d think,” he laughed. “If you get a chance, the deejay’s name is Nell, tell her you’re a friend of mine on your break.”

“Of course.” Mar’i smiled at him and ducked inside. 

Upon entering the cramped foyer, the temperature increased at least twenty degrees. The building was large but between the fog machines and the colored lights and the sheer volume of people inside, it was pretty muggy. There was what looked like a ticket booth with a gentleman inside collecting IDs, and Mar’i slid hers through the hole in the window and was instructed to slide her wrist through so he could draw an X on the back with a sharpie. No drinks for her. Of course, if she really wanted she could turn down the transparency level on her pendant and the sharpie would disappear, but she wasn’t here for drinks. 

She was here for a distraction. 

Past the ticket booth was a circular bar, tended by two girls with lots of makeup and tight skirts and one twenty year old guy in a very flattering pair of pants. The bar itself was lined with people, some of them eyeing Mar’i as she walked by but most either drinking away their sorrows or hitting on a bartender or someone they’d met.

Beyond the bar was a raised floor and the there was a balcony area above that. Up on the balcony there were poles to hang onto while dancing and there were a few couples crowded around those. Mar’i stuck to the bottom level underneath the balcony. 

This position put her across from the deejay booth, which she decided to scope out. It was a huge setup, three tables lined up to surround the deejay as she worked, a synthesizer and laptop among other sound equipment that was foreign to Mar’i all within reach. The deejay was currently holding onto her oversized headphones with one hand, the other pumping the air to the beat of the bass, her natural hair wild as she threw her head in different directions to tend to the music. 

It set the mood, and Mar’i was able to forget herself. Dancing by herself was her objective, but some men wouldn’t be ushered away by a shake of her head and she humored them before being more forceful, and a few girls danced with her as well. It was like she was a regular person. 

…

“Yo-yo,” the voice scolded through the crappy speakers she’d up on her ancient laptop. “I’m disappointed in you.”

“Yeah, well. It ain’t like I’m the one who lost the friggin bag,” she huffed, tearing out one of her pigtails and combing her fingers through her hair. I’m doin’ everything I can with what I got.” The blonde squinted at the screen, trying to make out any distinguishable features through the oversized hood the figure before her wore. “Ya know, I got a gang to run. You’re not my boss.”

“The Jokerz is hardly one unified gang,” the hooded figure said, voice cool and calm. “And I doubt someone such as yourself could change that.”

“Yeah? You got someone else in mind?” The young woman flopped onto her bed, wishing this jerk would cut the transmission so she could get some shut eye. 

“Nonsense. I picked you because I saw uncultivated potential in you. I don’t blame you entirely for this.”

She propped herself up on her elbow to frown at the screen. This guy was a bad dude, he had her home address, her real name, her job. She wouldn’t be able to escape from him if she tried, not that she necessarily wanted to. Leading the Jokerz in one unified group would be great, and this guy seemed to be wanting to make that happen. “Not my fault, like I told ya. You were supposed to bring us the goods and you didn’t make that happen.”

“I brought them to you. Your gang allowed an interception--”

“We all know what happened, guy. I’m just saying, the stuff never got to us. It should maybe be on you to get more.”

There was a silence. 

“I produced enough Joker gas to turn all of Little Italy into your knockoff victims and you really want to suggest such a thing as that?”

“It’s not my fault your guys let the T’s grab the goods. Now they can have the juice. And what do I got against the T’s? Crowbars?!”

“Yes. Surprisingly effective tools, I’d say.” The figure paused. “You’re not getting anything until you can recover what I produced. Either find that gas or resign yourself to working for me to repay your debt.”

The blonde woman relaxed with her back flat on the mattress once more. “I’ll find the gas.”

“Indeed you will. I’m cutting this transmission.”

The screen went bright white before showing her background picture, the pit bull she grew up loving, and she rolled onto her side. An ordinary person would be anxious about the whole situation, but she was just going to take it as it came. Besides, it wasn’t like she really had anything to lose.

…

 

Dana stretched her arms out over her head, her elbow cracking as she did. The sun had been up for a while and she could smell what remained of breakfast from the kitchen. She stretched her foot, the silk of her sheets caressing her freshly shaved legs in a pleasant way, and she picked up her phone. Almost ten in the morning. That was fine. She plucked the charger out of the port and held the phone up to her ear. 

“Hey, this is Terry. I’m busy right now, leave a mess-”

She hung up and dialed one more time, this time receiving a groggy, “Dane? You okay?”

“Of course,” she chirped into the phone. Most people answered their phone with a hello, but nine times out of ten Terry sounded concerned. It was endearing and it kind of made her heart warm up. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, actually I got caught up learning about… Um… Astronomy. Reading some of the textbook to get ahead.” 

Dana thought that was odd, but with Terry it was so hard to tell. “Astronomy?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda hard, and since Mr. Wayne’s supporting me through school I figure… I gotta try.”

That sounded like her Terry. “I get it. I just want to tell you, my dad was pretty impressed with you last night. He made almost no hoodlum comments on the ride home last night. He’s glad Mr. Wayne has picked you up and is helping you get on the right path.”

“Yeah. I really owe a lot to the geezer.” Terry yawned. Obviously he was still half asleep. “Hey Dane, I really need to get like two more hours of sleep here. I’ll call you at one and we can meet up with Max and do something, okay?”

She rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re gonna have to start waking up before noon once classes start, you know.”

“I’ll tackle that when it comes. I’ll talk to you later.”

Dana bit her lip. The L-word seemed to be on the tip of her tongue lately, but she swallowed it down. “Okay, Terry. I’ll talk to you.”

As she hung up the phone she couldn’t help but think that going to college would be a great opportunity for Terry. He seemed really serious about school and about his work with Mr. Wayne. And Dana was hoping that maybe he could get serious about her, too. End this on again off again thing they’d had going on for years. Of course, only time would tell, but she was looking forward to what was coming more than she ever did back in high school. 

Something was going to happen, and Dana felt almost in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been like... fifteen months since I updated this. A lot has happened in real life, excuses and sob stories etc., I'm just glad to be back. Please excuse me if the writing has taken a dip in quality, I haven't done much writing since my hiatus. Thanks for picking this up again. (Any question about the story that you have can be sent over to my tumblr account where you will find me under the same username.)


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